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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25802995">a deal with the devil</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LengtheningShadows/pseuds/CallMeAngel'>CallMeAngel (LengtheningShadows)</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LengtheningShadows/pseuds/LengtheningShadows'>LengtheningShadows</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Skeleton shenanigans [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Undertale (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood Pacts, Bromance to Romance, Dark Magic, Developing Friendships, Even Then The Updates Are Crappy But Whatever, Eventual Romance, For Killer, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Multi, Or Magic Pacts?, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pissing Off People Is An Art, Slow To Update, Soul Pacts, Teasing, Weird Plot Shit, anger issues, we're doing this</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:54:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,251</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25802995</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LengtheningShadows/pseuds/CallMeAngel, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LengtheningShadows/pseuds/LengtheningShadows</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the last draw.</p><p>Error has had enough of Ink's bullshit. The squid has tried time and time again to force him into an unwanted friendship, despite his furious protests. The Destroyer can only take so much before he breaks, but not in the way Ink wanted.</p><p>In a last, desperate attempt to rid himself of the rainbow asshole, he turns to Nightmare, who offers him his protection in exchange for joining their little gang. Error reluctantly accepts.</p><p>Who knew a bunch of skeletons would tip his life upside down?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dust/Error, Horror/Dust, Horror/Error, Killer/Error, Killer/Nightmare, Nightmare/Error, Sans/Sans (Undertale)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Skeleton shenanigans [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1872031</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Deal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In of which Error realizes he should've thought through his plan more carefully.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">Error</span>
</p><p> </p><p>"So, have you agreed to the terms of our deal?"</p><p> </p><p>The Lord of Nightmares sets down his cup of coffee upon the small tray filled with pastries and biscuits, which were mostly untouched. His own coffee sat cold next to Nightmare's, due to his fears of poison within the caffeinated drink. Whether or not he noticed this, Nightmare made no comment. A single turquoise eye-light studies him coolly, and he can't bring himself to meet his gaze.</p><p> </p><p>His soul was beating an obnoxious amount within his rib-cage, thrumming with anxiety as the result of the deal he was going to accept. The agreement which contained the rules of their soul pact, a forever binding contract, of sorts. Soul pacts were dark magic, he knew, but it was the only way the paranoid asshole sitting in front of him would hide him from the accursed squid.</p><p> </p><p>His hatred for Ink couldn't be described in words. If it was a sound, it would've been the cursing and screaming of a thousand souls he captured.</p><p> </p><p>Ink and his persistent attempts at friendship, always ruining his peace and quiet, further destroying what little remained of his sanity. No matter where he fled, how far he ran, the Protector would find him. Yet there's only some much he can take before he gets desperate.</p><p> </p><p>That exact desperation led right to Nightmare's doorstep.</p><p> </p><p>He's known for a long time that the lord of negativity wanted to recruit him for their little gang. Nightmare has never tried to hide the fact he wanted him to serve, to bow to the king he proclaimed to be. The claim itself made him lose all interest of further association with him, and frankly, he couldn't have given less of a shit about the ludicrous offer. He, the Destroyer of Universes, bowing to some egotistical maniac? The thought itself was absurd, even in his half sane mind.</p><p> </p><p>Perhaps fate truly did hate him, placing him in this mess, but currently, Nightmare was his salvation. His one true savior, so to speak.</p><p> </p><p>Even if he was a scheming, slimy asshole. <strike><em>The slimy part quite literally.</em></strike></p><p> </p><p>While he did accept to work with him, he had never said that he would work <em>under </em>him. Unlike his other goons, the Destroyer would not bow to his every command. Rather, they would be <em>equals,</em> or as much of that as they could be without hurting Nightmare's rather sensitive and ridiculously large pride. Still, he was willing to take what he could get, all for some peace and quiet. It was worth it.</p><p> </p><p>His thoughts and doubts properly dealt with, he tries to speak, but finds his voice oddly missing. Maybe he hadn't cleared <em>all </em>of his anxiety, then. He clears his false throat, drawing the other's attention. It's slightly frightening, having all of that raw, oppressive negativity focused purely on him, but he fights through his rising tide of apprehensiveness.</p><p> </p><p>"Err, yes, I...accept your terms." He manages, the scratchiness of his voice unnoticeable through the vague distortion that accompanied it. Nightmare gives the barest hint of a smile, leaning back into his wing chair. His expression is one of smug satisfaction, but he hides it very well. If it hadn't been for his keen eye, he might've missed the minute glint of satisfaction in his eye-lights.</p><p> </p><p>A being like Nightmare couldn't feel any positive emotion, he was sure, but with his slight shift in mood, he was able to breathe easier. He allows himself to marvel in how much a mere change in mood could affect others around him before saying, "Lets get on with it."</p><p> </p><p>His little stutter brings an amused snicker towards him before the lord of negativity smiled crookedly. "Impatient, are we?" He rumbled, crossing his legs, "So eager to enter my service, Error?" There was definitely a note triumph in his tone, one that he despised. The arrogant bastard seemed further amused by his outraged splutter.</p><p> </p><p>"You listen here, I'm only doing this for some-"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, some peace and quiet, you've told me. Now sit down."</p><p> </p><p>Barely holding down his anger, he clenches his fists, but begrudgingly settles back into his chair. He didn't know what had gotten over him. He usually doesn't get angry so fast. Chalking it up to the thick layer of negativity filling the room, he glares at him, rage having not completely ebbed away. Nightmare didn't appear very interested in him anymore. On the contrary, he looked almost <em>bored. </em>"Enough of your tantrums, sign the paper and be done with it." With a simple wave of his hand, a rolled scroll appears before him.</p><p> </p><p>Before it's even opened, he knows it's no ordinary sheet of wood. Golden embroidery covered the edges, with the texture itself being rich and soft looking. Alike to Nightmare, it seemed to have an <em>aura </em>surrounding it. "Where'd you get that?" He breathes, and surprisingly, the skeleton in front of him replies. "It's made with a tree that originates from my very own universe." Nightmare says nonchalantly.</p><p> </p><p>He turns his astonished stare towards him. His universe? Wasn't that a failed Dreamtale? Why was he even telling him this?</p><p> </p><p>He realized that it was because he was part of the gang now. Or was going to be, in a few short minutes. His anxiety and fear all comes tumbling back, and it's difficult to breathe as it unrolls on it's own. "It's almost a waste to make you sign it." He comments.</p><p> </p><p>"I would be devastated if I had to throw it away."</p><p> </p><p>He senses the threat in the tone. It doesn't help his panic in the slightest. Still, he proceeds to draw the vial from his coat pocket. It held glowing white essence within, his <em>soul</em> essence. Soul essence was a fluid that monsters used for reproduction, and while he didn't know the exact details of the process, he knew it entailed mixing two different essences. He was sure you couldn't do it without consent, but held the vial close just in case.</p><p> </p><p>Nightmare watches closely, drawing his own own vial. It was filled with black, thick substance, resembling tar. He reels slightly, and has to wonder what had happened to his soul that had made it so awful. The other notices his reaction, and raises a brow. He doesn't dwell on it.</p><p> </p><p>The contract floats closer to him. "You sign first." Nightmare gestures towards the pen on the coffee table. His hands surprisingly steady, he pick it up, and dips it into his vial. The tip comes out glowing white, and he raises it to the blank spot below the paper. Strangely enough, writing is difficult, with his soul pounding strongly inside his rib-cage. He's just writing the second 'r' in his name when he's struck with dizziness. His skull is positively swimming, and he struggles to not lose his grip on the pen.</p><p> </p><p>"What's the matter?" Nightmare calls mockingly from in front of him, but it sounds miles away. The bastard was mocking him, he thinks with anger, which allows him to finish writing his goddamned name. By the end, he was sure he was going to be sick. Slumping back into his chair, he manages to string together a sentence. "What the fuck was that?" His voice is shaky and barely understandable, but he gets the gist.</p><p> </p><p>"Did you really think it would be that easy? Signing your soul away?" Nightmare said, dripping his pen into his tar-soul-essence. Before his eyes, he writes with no problem at all, and doesn't seem visibly affected.</p><p> </p><p>"How'd you..." </p><p> </p><p>He doesn't get to finish the sentence as his vision blackens around the edges. His soul seems determined to break out of his rib-cage, and it's throbbing with pain. Through hazy flashes of black, he finds Nightmare kneeling over his prone and limp form, grinning. "Looks like your soul is weaker than I thought..." He muses, to which he groans in agony. Did this fucker just poison him or something? "Oh don't worry, I suspect you'll be fine in a few days... Your soul is just tiring from the strain."</p><p> </p><p>The words blur together, and it's all he can do before he passes out.</p><p> </p><p>He gives the slimy bastard the middle finger.</p><p> </p><p>Blissful yet agonizing silence.</p><p> </p><p>"Welcome to the team" Is all he hears before something hits him over the skull, knocking him out cold.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Forgive me, it's rushed!! I just really wanted to post this before going on bit of a hiatus. I'm going to be working on this story full time, and I've already got a rough sketch of the plot, so don't worry, it won't be abandoned! Hope you enjoyed.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A Warm Welcome</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>He's disoriented and confused. Luckily, Killer is there to help him.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">Error</span>
</p><p> </p><p>He's floating, drifting in and out of deep slumber, his dreams blank, empty. It's not like regular sleep, he would've realized later. It's something more regenerative, an element of healing that enhanced the drowsiness he felt. Each time he struggled to wake from this strange trance, it dragged him further beneath the waves of dreamless slumber, leaving him no choice but to comply.</p><p> </p><p>He's not conscious, not really. Only at the edge of his subconscious does he have the slightest notion that he needs to get up, and even then it's only a faint whisper, which wouldn't quite reach him.</p><p> </p><p>The question is, what <em>did </em>wake him, if it weren't for himself.</p><p> </p><p>It was the faint tug to his soul that roused him. What started as a mere shift began to become more firm, as if something were yanking a leash tied to his soul. It was more jarring than painful, sufficient enough to startle him out of sleep. He lets out a gasp of surprise, eye-sockets fluttering open, hands clawing at his chest cavity through his clothes. The tug to his soul was strong, to the point where he felt it was going to jump out of his throat.</p><p> </p><p>Panic begins to well in him, whole body twisting as he desperately tries to cease the awful pulling. His thoughts are blank, wild with animalistic terror, yet there was nothing he could do. Just as the beginnings of pain trickle along his body, it finally, <em>finally, </em>ends, leaving him breathless, and beyond shocked. He's barely had time to gather himself when a sentence echoes through his mind.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Prepare yourself to meet me, I will explain our new terms.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Then, as if as an afterthought, adds,</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Killer will assist you.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Without even needing verification, he knows it's Nightmare. Who else would be able to speak into his fucking skull? Speaking of which, <strong><em>how the fuck did that happen? </em></strong>And what the hell does "new terms,' mean? What the fuck happened with his soul there?</p><p> </p><p>There's too many pressuring thoughts for him to deal with, each one banging inside his skull, to the point where he groans, burying his face in his hands. His soul felt rather fragile, each beat uneven, panicked. Usually, his magic would manifest itself in face of such distress, yet his energy reserves were almost completely empty. He dimly notices his bones are covered in a thin layer of sweat, probably due to all his mindless thrashing about on the...<em>bed.</em></p><p> </p><p>Until now, he hasn't noticed he's on a bed. And, more importantly, not <em>his </em>bed. Several loud alarm bells go off inside his head, prompting him to swiftly sit up. Surely he wouldn't have been...he would've noticed...right? Yet he knew with how heavily he'd been sleeping, he wouldn't even have been aware that the whole place was collapsing around him.</p><p> </p><p>It was a large, king sized bed, with a broad frame he'd been leaning against moments before. The covers didn't seem to be disturbed, other than where he had been sleeping on it, and thankfully, his clothes were all on. It wasn't sufficient enough to prove nothing had happened, yet he was so exhausted he let it go. Despite all the sleep he's sure he's gotten, there's still a certain lethargy that tails him, causing him to rub at his eye-sockets every so often, making his movements sluggish. He pushes through his drowsiness, giving himself a good slap to the face.</p><p> </p><p>"Snap out of it." He grumbled to himself, giving his eye-sockets one final rub. He would usually have a cup of coffee before starting the day, but he suspected Nightmare wouldn't allow him to open portals inside the castle. Security and shit. He was glad, because that meant Ink couldn't get in without actually finding them, and that was basically impossible. Hell, even <em>he</em> had trouble finding the AU they had hid the castle in, even with specific coordinates.</p><p> </p><p>It made the deal that much more worth it.</p><p> </p><p>He was still savoring the taste of victory when the door is blown wide open, the handle hitting the back wall with a bang, startling him enough to make him jump. His magic flickers weakly as the intruder grins widely, knife held between his bony fingers, with liquid hate pouring out of his empty eye-sockets. He knew of him, everyone who knew about the multiverse knew him, the leader of the Nightmare gang, Killer. Infamous across the multiverse for his seemingly endless amount of LV, his taste for violence, and his deceptively jovial attitude. How many had fallen to his wicked blade, he couldn't be sure, but he knew if he wasn't careful, he'd be facing a very tough opponent.</p><p> </p><p>"If it isn't the one and only Destroyer!" The genocidal skeleton laughs mischievously, taking a few steps closer to the bed he was sitting on. The look in his eye-lights is nothing but playful, not a thing to suggest any animosity towards him, yet he's still wary as he eyes the knife in his hand carefully. He's read the files, and he's fully aware of the damage that kitchen knife could cause. Killer must've noticed his wariness as he says, "Aw, this little thing? Don't worry, I won't carve you up just yet." The skeleton takes two more strides closer, and he's face to face with him, pointing the fucking knife at him, making him deeply uncomfortable. He giggles as he scoots back in horror, and far too quickly, he's on the edge of the bed.</p><p> </p><p>It's fortunate that Killer didn't look interested in pursuing him further. "Maybe we could play another time, but boss said I had to keep you in one piece." His wink is as cheeky as it is disgusting, and he can't help the way his face scrunches up slightly. God forbid, he'd rather fight than deal with this bullshit. He says as much.</p><p> </p><p>"Fuck you."</p><p> </p><p>Perhaps it's not the most witty or eloquent of responses, but Killer gets the message all the same. He pouts mockingly, "You're no fun." He fake sulks for about half a heartbeat before returning to a more serious composure. "Anyhow, I need to show you around, teach ya the ropes." He waggles his bone brows,to which he only frowns in confusion. "Wait, am I not going to meet him right now?" </p><p> </p><p>"Nah, boss's busy."</p><p> </p><p>"Busy with what?" </p><p> </p><p>"None of your business." His tone had a hard edge he didn't like, so he let the subject drop. Shrugging his shoulders, he gets up, doing his best to smooth the wrinkles from his clothes. Killer watches this with what felt to be mild amusement, still twirling his knife between his fingers. "Can you not do that?" He says from the other side of the bed, unwilling to go closer to the knife. Destroyer or not, he didn't like the idea of being cut by a knife, especially one that does 999 damage. "What's life without a bit of danger?" The sharp metal is still dancing within his hand, much to his disapproval. The cocky shit is smirking at him, daring him to object. He probably knows he's too tired for this.</p><p> </p><p>"Whatever, just know I told you when you chop your hand off." He growls as he stalks past him, towards the open door. He can hear snickering behind him, but doesn't try to look. If he did, he's sure he would start yelling. He walks out into a hallway, and starts going down the length of it, attempting to put as much space between him and Killer as possible. He hears soft footfalls following him, which only spurs him to walk faster. He doesn't know where he's going, but anywhere without Killer is perfect. Just as he was about to turn the corner, he hears the little shit call out behind him.</p><p> </p><p>"You do realize that's the wrong way right?"</p><p> </p><p>The urge to turn around and flip him off is strong, but he manages to fight through his embarrassment, and start walking back. His face is warm, and by the shit eating grin on Killer's face, he can sure as hell see it. Instead of brushing past him, he angrily gestures for him to move. "Well, move it!" He's being childish now, and he knows it. Killer merely shrugs before going down the other end of the hallway, with him trailing behind.</p><p> </p><p>"So, this is the east wing of the castle." He explains. "We're on the second floor, but your room's on the third floor." He hasn't had a say in his room arrangements, which makes him even more pissed. But all he can do is stare resentfully at the other skeleton's back. Killer whistles a little tune as he silently treads through the hallway, further deepening his annoyance. Gradually, the hallway opens up to another room with a staircase. "Nobody really stays on the second floor, so you can have free reign."</p><p> </p><p>He stares at the paintings as they head to the upper levels, the third floor. One depicted a scene of chaos and destruction, with another portraying monsters screaming in agony. Nightmare sure has some taste, he thinks sardonically. The twisting staircase creaked at some floorboards, but otherwise remained quiet. The third floor was about the same as the second floor in terms of structure, Killer said. </p><p> </p><p>He then leads him to his room, a master bedroom with a nice little bathroom. It's...nice. The large windows allow plenty sunlight to enter the room, and it smelled fresh, unlike most of the old castle. Killer watches him examine the room, leaning on the door-frame. "You like?" He asks with a roguish grin. This time, he actually asked for his opinion un-ironically, which came as a bit of a surprise to him.</p><p> </p><p>"It's nice." He answers honestly. This seemed to be the right answer as Killer stares fondly at the room.</p><p> </p><p>"Someone really put some effort into this."</p><p> </p><p>"Who?"</p><p> </p><p>"You'll meet them soon."</p><p> </p><p>Killer wasn't helpful in the slightest, and since he didn't look like he was going to divulge anymore information, he chases him away. The skeleton only laughs as he slams the door shut. Behind the sturdy wood, he hears him slowly walk away, chuckling to himself.</p><p> </p><p>This guy was really going to become a problem, a very annoying, yet somehow charming one.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay, I'm adding the relationships to the tags cuz some people might get confused! If you enjoyed, leave a comment, it really helps me write more.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A Stroll Through The Hall</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Error gets hungry, and with nobody to guide him, he heads downstairs.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">Error</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Once he's driven away Killer, he flops down on his new bed, sighing as he stares up at the ceiling. There are little glow in the dark stars stuck on it, arranged to look like a meteorite. It's so ridiculous it earns a small snort from him, prompting him to wonder who on earth actually did this. From his short inspection, he's noted that there are plenty of minor details like it scattered across the room as well. Not too much to make the space look cluttered. On the contrary, it only enhanced the feeling of warm comfort that emanated every corner.</p><p> </p><p>However, despite the homely atmosphere, there's a nagging question in the back of his head.</p><p> </p><p>He'd be a fool not to notice the animosity that trails him everywhere he went — as though his own personal shadow. Wary eyes followed his footsteps, tense and ready to strike. His reputation truly does precede itself, seeing as people who were willing to associate with him were awfully few. A problem at times, but one he's learnt to overcome.</p><p> </p><p>Just a flick of his fingers, the weave of his string, and their soul was his. The very culmination of their being, bending to his will. It's this feeling of total control that draws him closer to the edge of insanity, but he's resisted the temptation of madness so far. It's quite the challenge, keeping his sanity. Perhaps that's why people were so afraid of him.</p><p> </p><p>That leaves to question, who would go and prepare such a room for him.</p><p> </p><p>It's the million dollar question, one he finds himself at a loss for an answer. No one would do such a nice thing for him, or so he thought. As he lay there, wondering their intentions and motives, the most odd thought occurred to him.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>What if they were just welcoming him?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>It's absurd, yes, but plausible. So far he's only seen Killer from the gang, but the skeleton was pleasant enough, in his own way. Maybe the rest would be the same, and this was just one of their way of welcoming him, he can only guess. But currently, he's in desperate need for some rest, and his eyelids are trying to close. He'd ponder about this another time...</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Golden light filters through the curtains, casting the room in a brilliant light. He's currently enjoying the view on the window ledge, savoring what little sunlight this universe could offer. One leg dangles off the smooth marble, while the other is curled against his chest. He rest his chin on his knee, thankful for the soft cloth covering it. Not the most comfortable of positions, but he's unwilling to move. Partly due to the laziness that shrouded him, but also because of the splendid view the window could offer.</p><p> </p><p>He's recently discovered that with him inhabiting the third floor, he had access to a great sight, one he wouldn't have been able to appreciate from anywhere else. The only luck he's had so far.</p><p> </p><p>From where he sat he could see dense woodlands surrounding the area, ancient oaks towering above most trees. The occasional bird swarm would erupt from the treetops, startled by god knows what. So far he's only seen ravens up in the sky. There was a nearby lake that had strange birds drinking from it's edges, their midnight black feathers glossy in the sunlight. He's certain they're not ravens, seeing as they were the size of a bear. Maybe it was his bad eyesight playing tricks on him, but he's convinced they're staring at him.</p><p> </p><p>The whole place screamed of 'creepy dark forest'. From the odd birds to the strange, large beasts hulking around the woods, shoving trees out of their way. Shadows flitted around the edge of the woods, too fast for him to discern. It fascinated him, in a queer way. He simply cannot tear his eyes away from the sinister sight, too entranced to notice his ever growing hunger.</p><p> </p><p>If he shifted his gaze a little to the side, he would be able to see the other flank of the castle. Even more dark and dreary than the forest, the large tower stood tall, overshadowing his own spot. It looked quite formidable, being the tallest one in the castle. He's willing to bet Nightmare himself lived in there, all tall and mighty, the arrogant prick. </p><p> </p><p>Nonetheless, he was enjoying himself immensely when his non-existent stomach rumbled. That reminds him, he hasn't eaten for hours on end. How he'd forgotten one of the basic necessities of life, he doesn't know. It's only at times like this when he inwardly complains about having to eat. He slides off the stone, joints giving a satisfying pop. An so the hunt for food begins.</p><p> </p><p>He casts his window ledge one last longing stare, and heads out of the room. It's only when he opens the door does he realize he doesn't know where the kitchen is. The most reasonable answer would be to say it was on the first floor, but from there on, he doesn't have a clue. He's certain Killer mentioned something about this, but he'd been too irritated at the time to pay any heed. Cursing his own stupidity, he steps into the hallway, shutting the door behind him. The light closed off, leaving him in the darkness of the hall.</p><p> </p><p>Of course Nightmare wouldn't have any sense to have windows. Doom and Gloom all the way, he thought bitterly. He couldn't see well in the dark, a contribution of his bad eyesight. Which left him to feel around and hope he didn't hit his face against the wall. He was standing there, dreading his fate when an idea occurred to him. One he should've thought of sooner.</p><p> </p><p>Manifesting his magic into a small blue bone, he's incredibly pleased to see that the light source is sufficient to light the way, albeit dimly.</p><p> </p><p>Still feeling like a bumbling fool, he holds the blue attack in front of him, keeping his eyes steady on the ground. If he trips, he's positive he would scream loud enough to wake everyone in this accursed castle. Maybe they deserved it. He mutters curses as he treads through the gloomy hall, hoping to get to the stairwell as soon as possible. The gnawing in his stomach isn't helping either.</p><p> </p><p>He walks faster.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>There's a small blue light walking around. Oh wait, there's a person. He's holding the blue light. It's been so long since it's seen a person, it's salivating at it's mouth. It gets closer, only to realize it's one of those skeletons! No no no, they're too powerful. It musn't attack him, or risk revealing it's location to the others. Yes, it must be patient.</p><p> </p><p>And so, it bids It's time, watching as he swept pass him. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Whoo! I'm back baby. I just cranked up this one, pulled an all nighter. It was fun, but I'm not sure about the quality :') </p><p>Error you cranky bastard! Who told you you could go out late after curfew. Well, no one told him that, but-</p><p>Also, who is this strange being?? What correlation does it have with anything?? Leave a comment! (Yes I do realize I suck.)</p><p>(To the one person who I promised angst, I'm sorry I didn't deliver :(  Have this instead-)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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